Read Rider Now

2011-01-16T08:14:00.000-08:00

Prolouge: Everybody has their dark side...

There had never been a night so brutally cold or so utterly still. A girl stood, her feet frozen in the snow, watching a line of shadows as they swayed hypnotically against the tiny shops that lined the main street of her small hometown. She turned at the sound of a nightstick tapping to the beat of heavy boots crunching through the drifts.
"Is everything all right?" asked Constable Jones, veering from his rounds to approach her.
"Yes," the girl replied smiling sweetly. They had this conversation every night. "Just finishing my deliveries." She opened the top of a large basket and reached inside. "This is the last one!" The constable smiled his eyes devouring the sweet cake as she wrapped it in a cloth napkin and handed it to him.
"Will you be all right getting home?" he asked. She nodded. The constable studied the package in his hand then met her gaze with concern. "There's been another rash of slaughters. This time at the Havendash farm." Her brow wrinkled as she raised a hand to her lips.

Even in her distress the girl was lovely. Her cheeks, rosy from the cold night, stood out prominently against her pale skin. Long brown tresses curled from under a hood of crimson. But most remarkable were her green eyes that flashed in the light of a nearby lamp. She pulled the cloak tighter around her throat as she considered the constable’s words.

"The Havendash farm is over by your flat," Constable Jones continued. "Are you sure you'll be alright?"
"I will," she replied looking up at him. She had walked this way a hundred times. No one but the shadows and the constable had ever crossed her path. “Who would do such a thing?" she asked.
"A hungry wolf. Or a bloodthirsty wraith," he replied touching her arm. "Are you sure you'll be alright? I don't mind accompanying you."
"I'll be fine," the girl smiled.
"Well then, you better be off before we both catch our death of cold," he said watching through narrowed eyes as she made her way to the outskirts of the town.

If she had paused a moment longer the girl might have noticed a single dancing shadow that separated itself from the others and was now moving towards her with unprecedented speed. She hurried along towards her destination. Tiny street lamps hung from poles throwing off an amber glow that barely cut through the thick fog and starless night. The shadow followed her through the winding narrow road, leaving neither footprint nor making a sound as it stalked her.

The wind began to pick up as she reached the edge of town causing drifted snow to swirl around her ankles. She pulled her cloak more tightly about her, taking a deep breath as she stepped out of the last circle of lamplight into utter darkness. Her flat was just ahead. The wind whistled about the eaves as she made her way through the ominous black, fumbling for her keys when she arrived at her door. A huge gust of wind blew her cloak over her head, and she stumbled, dropping her basket and her key in the drifted snow.
"No!" she moaned, scanning the inky shadows.
The wind swirled washing snow over the little indent the key had left to mark its hiding place. Then the girl felt the breeze rippling through her and the hair on her arms stood on end as she sensed a presence behind her. She spun about. A stranger stood there, towering over her, his dark eyes sparkling like glowing jewels. She stared at him and for some reason she felt no fear as the man stood silently in the swirling snow. Something about him seemed almost familiar. She narrowed her eyes studying his strong features etched in silhouette against the drifts of white. "Do I know you?" she asked.
He was tall with dark hair and a gaze like a large cat, dangerous but passive now, waiting to spring. But what mesmerized her was that his eyes seemed to swirl as she looked into them with the deepest shades of purple and blue.

As she looked in his eyes the girl was transported to a memory from her childhood. She saw a man who watched her from the edge of her town as she made her way home from school. She had been drawn to him, the same way she was drawn to the stranger before her.
"Do I know you?" she asked again taking a tentative step closer.
At that moment another gusty wind blew down the road, this one much harder than the one that had passed before. The girl lost her balance and began to fall. A strong hand clasped hers moments before she was buried deep in the drifts. The stranger righted her pulling her close. His closeness made her uneasy, but then the feeling was replaced by one of awe as the stranger pointed his finger at the piled snow. Her key rose from it's hiding place sailing through the air to fit itself in the lock on the door.
"How is this possible?" she wondered as her basket rose too, flying through the cold to settle in the stranger's hand. He did not speak, but instead squeezed her fingers as the door to her flat swung open. Then he led her inside.

The flat was cold and dark and the girl’s breath blew forth in streams of white mist as they walked though the quite rooms, the echo of her own footsteps the only sound that marked their passage. The stranger stopped before a small stone fireplace where he set down her basket and helped her remove her cloak, spreading it out before the hearth.
"There's no coal for the fire," she said quietly, wishing she had gathered some sticks from the edge of the woods outside the village.
The stranger knelt down before the fireplace and blew on it gently. A flame sprang to life, crackling in the empty fireplace, its soft glow filling the room. Then the stranger rose and walked toward her. She stared incredulously at the fire then back at the man who was so close now that she could feel his breath on her skin. She gasped as he reached out for her driving his fingers deep into the soft flesh of her shoulders.
He forced her down on her cloak where it lay bathed in firelight. Then he knelt before her, his lips finding hers in a slow play that quickly mounted to a passionate embrace. He sucked her breath from her and the girl was stunned to find she could no longer move. The stranger pressed her down on the cloak and raising a finger he traced a line from the charm she wore on her bodice to the bottom of her hem, severing her dress from her body. He touched her as he desired and she moaned, both shocked and pleased by the unexpected violation. Her passion rose as she embraced the stranger's caress lost in her senses, ignoring the faint clanging of warning bells ringing in her head.

A loud rapping at the door followed by a thundering crash and the sound of splintering wood woke the girl from her dream. She leapt up, naked and shivering, and raced to the window to see what was creating the commotion.
"Once again men!" exclaimed the constable. The villagers swung a great pole, their grossly determined faces illuminated by torches as they battered down her door. It crashed open and the mob rushed into her flat the constable grabbing her by the wrist before she could wrap herself in her cloak and conceal her nakedness.
"Search every room!" he commanded as the men pulled the girl's clothes from her closet and emptied the pantry in her tiny kitchen.
"He's not here!" a villager exclaimed returning with the mob to where the constable stood. Constable Jones pushed his face close to hers. "Where is the wraith?" he demanded twisting her arm until tears welled in the girl‘s eyes.
"I do not know," she replied, looking from the constable to the villagers and their leering, angry faces.
"Do not deny me!" the Constable shouted holding her arms up so she was revealed to all. "I saw her conspiring with the devil after she left me tonight," he exclaimed. "I followed her to the edge of the town, where he came to her out of a black shadow from the depths of hell!"
The villagers gasped.
"Burn her!" a grizzled man cried out.
"Burn her, burn her," they all joined in. The haunting chant echoed off the walls of the flat as the girl screamed her objections in vain. She was bound naked and carried out into the snow.

The mob brought her to the edge of town, and tied her to an old, unused lamppost, far enough away from the other buildings so that they would not catch fire too.
"For the last time, confess your sins to save your life. Where is the wraith!" growled Constable Jones.
"I do not know," choked the girl through her sobs.
"Then die!" he replied, his face a horrible caricature as he gave the signal to the waiting villagers. "How could you?" she whispered staring in horror as the constable's face cracked into a hideous grin. She watched in disbelief as the villagers threw their cloaks and coats down on the snow at her feet. They lit the garments, a huge funeral pyre ripping across the night sky, exploding with a sickening red glow that illuminated the heavens.

The stranger saw the eruption of fire and stopped where he stood at the edge of the woods. The girl’s screams pierced the night, tormenting him as no devil could. He stared transfixed as the flames licked at her like a relentless lover, consuming her until she expired with a final terrible cry. Then his face clouded over and rage replaced his pain. It would be a hundred years before the opportunity arose again. He raised his fists at the night, howling in the wind. As he did, an inky stain spread across the already starless sky. His face turned pale as he saw a horde of hideous Things rising up through the clearing. He began to run, the screams of the villagers echoing in his ears, along with the flapping of a thousand leathery wings.

100 years later...

Chapter 1
Heat rose from the ground in scorching waves of vapor. Kat scowled and threw the wrench she was using into the dust. She hated Nevada. Hated the desert, the burning sun, the sand, and the rattlesnakes. She had swerved to avoid one of the slithering devils and now her motorcycle lay steaming on the side of the road. Kat stood up and wiped a sandy hand across her brow. She gazed out at the long strip of highway. As far as she could see there was nothing but miles of sand. She shielded her eyes and looked up at the sky. By the looks of it the sun would be going down in a few hours, trading its fiery furnace for freezing darkness. Then she'd really be in trouble.

Kat kicked at the ground, watching as the sand swirled around her foot, sticking to the toe of her sneaker in a gritty ochre streak. She'd had enough for one day. Her grifter boyfriend had ripped her off and ditched her on this god-forsaken road. It had been Gus' idea to leave LA and come to Nevada. “A new start,” he had told her. Now she was left with her bike, her clothes and a small wad of bills she had stashed in her pack. She ran her tongue over parched lips. Wouldn't do much good if she couldn't get the bike started. A tumbleweed rolled aimlessly across her path and made its way over the dunes. She had never made good choices in men; this time had been no different.

Kat sighed and rummaged through her saddlebag. She found a smaller wrench and lay down under her bike again, the bright sun beat down on her face as she banged on the gleaming metal. She felt herself starting to swoon and wished for a drink. As she continued to labor her mind wandered through the pages of her past drifting by images of her mom, the towns they had lived in and the many schools she had attended. She remembered the day she made the swim team at San Fernando High. A drop of sweat trickled past the corner of her mouth and she licked at the salty tear as she recalled diving into a pool of clear, chlorinated water. She stroked powerfully down the lane, a blanket of cool blue enveloping her as she swam. She finished her lap and rose up at the pool’s end. A pair of boy’s shoes rested before her. Kat’s breath caught in her throat. It was so long ago, she had almost forgotten.

She recalled the boy’s smooth face, his lithe frame and natural athleticism. That is what had first attracted her to him, though she would never understand why he had been attracted to her. He was the captain of the football team, and she was a secretive outsider. He was the most popular boy in school, while she was sorely lacking in the social graces that most girls her age had mastered. Never the less he had pursued her relentlessly and had she not lost a bet, she might never have tasted her first sweetheart kiss, or enjoyed the best year of her young life; that was, until she moved again. At least that once she had made a good decision.

Kat sat up and sighed, coughing hard as a cloud of sand swirled up around her. Her hands were covered with grease and grit, which she wiped on her jeans as she squinted at the sky. The sun was sinking rapidly now and she began to wonder what she would do if she couldn't get the bike started.
"Damn you Gus," she mumbled rummaging in the saddlebag again.
She had no phone, no food, the beat up Sketchers on her feet might make it a few miles, and in the couple of hours she had been stuck here not a single car had passed. She found a small pointy screwdriver and lay back down under the bike swiping at a lock of dirty blonde hair that fell in her eyes. She picked away at a stubborn nut buried in grease and sand. If she could loosen the nut she might override the starter and get the bike moving again, at least enough to get out of the desert and into a town.

Then Kat heard a rumbling. The air around her filled with dust so thick that she couldn't see. She choked, coughing up grit as a cyclone of sand enveloped her. Then just as quickly as it had come, it was gone. When the dust cleared Kat could see a truck throwing up sand a couple hundred yards away. She sprang to her feet waving her arms. "Stop!" she cried, running up the road after the truck. Her feet pounded the uneven surface, legs shaking with each step, her lungs screaming with each desperate breath. She ran faster swiping at the sweat that obscured her vision as she tried to keep the truck, her last chance to escape the fiery desert, in sight. Her lungs burned and her head began to pound; she ran until her legs quaked with violent spasms. “Stop!” she screamed as the truck turned into a tiny spec and disappeared over the horizon in a wash of burning hues. Kat doubled over dropping her hands to her knees and drew in a raspy breath.
"Please stop," she gasped. And then she realized it was too late.
She stared at the horizon, the blinding reflection of the sun on the sand making her eyes tear as she watched the spot where the truck had disappeared, willing it to return.
"He wouldn't have stopped for you anyway," said a voice from behind her.
Kat whirled around blinking her eyes against the glare of chrome that met her gaze. As they adjusted, she could make out the silhouette of a man, clad in black leather, sitting coolly astride a high-toned motorcycle. "What did you say?" she asked, scrutinizing his get up. He wasn't even breaking a sweat.
"I said he wouldn't have stopped for you anyway. Most truckers wouldn't pick up a trick on this strip."
"Trick?" Kat exclaimed.
"Nothing between here and the next town but tumbleweeds and cactus," he continued ignoring her, "Enough truckers have been taken. It's an unspoken rule that only suckers stop to help people stranded in this place."
"Then you must be a sucker," she replied walking back to her motorcycle and picking up her wrench.

The Rider motored over to her stalled bike as Kat sidled down by the engine. His shadow cast a long pall as he dismounted, stopping to stand only inches from where she lay. An uneasy feeling came over Kat as she looked up at the shiny leather of his boots, muscular legs, large torso and biceps. He was strong, and strong meant dangerous. She studied the line his face cut against the desert light: chiseled features, dark complexion toughened by heat, black hair cropped close that tumbled in a shock over his aviator shades. He was hot. The thought slipped out and Kat chastised herself angrily.
"In a few minutes the sun is going to set," the Rider stated matter-of-factly, "You don't want to be caught out here after nightfall."
Kat sat up, throwing the wrench in the sand with a look of disgust. "Why?" she asked.
"You never know what will happen after dark," he said, the dying sun coloring his skin a brilliant crimson.
"Well that's just fine," Kat replied, "Except my motorcycle won't budge."
"I can give you a ride," he suggested, taking off his glasses. His eyes seemed to swirl in a mesmerizing cascade of black, indigo and blue.
Kat shook her head and raised her chin defiantly, "That's all right. I can manage."
"Suit yourself," he replied walking over to his motorcycle. Kat’s mind raced as she watched the Rider mount his bike. He paused a moment before gunning the engine. "Wait!" Kat cried. Suddenly the thought of being alone at night in this god-forsaken desert with no hope of help filled her with fear. "To the next town," she said grabbing her saddlebag, putting on her helmet and climbing onto the seat behind him. She wrapped her arms around his waist as the bike lurched forward in a spray of sand and dust. They sped off into the desert, toward the dying sun and the next town.

R I D E R

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